


Power Play

by IntoTheFade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alpha Lavellan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom Lavellan (Dragon Age), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lavellan/Solas Angst (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas Fluff (Dragon Age), M/M, Omega Solas, Omega Verse, Protectiveness, Solas (Dragon Age) is Grim and Fatalistic, Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Sub Solas (Dragon Age), Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheFade/pseuds/IntoTheFade
Summary: In a world of alphas, omegas, and betas, the Inquisition's story goes a bit differently.Or, the alpha/omega Lavellan/Solas angst story that no-one asked for, but I'm delivering anyway.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Lavellan & Solas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

The Emerald Graves were quiet, and Ellana sent a soft smile to Solas from across the stream. Dorian was, at that moment, waxing lyrical about the benefits of Tevinter’s all-terrain carriages, which could apparently have spirited them across the sweltering grasslands without displacing a single one of his expertly-styled hairs.

“I am simply saying,” he simply said, stepping distastefully to the other side of the stream. “That there are some things Tevinter got right. Not the slavery, or the binding of spirits to service, or the frequent political poisonings, or the mage supremacy-”

“So, not any of the most principal things they’re known for, then?” Solas demurred, catching her eye with a smirk and making her bite her lip, the better to avoid giggling. 

Dorian huffed good-naturedly.

“Not at all, my elven hobo friend,” he agreed. “But, _all-terrain carriages_. Now, there’s something the South could happily take on board.”

Solas cocked an eyebrow.

“Would you say that we were friends?” He asked mildly. “I think of us as more like those distant relatives from different sides of a particularly large family. Those fourth cousins who tolerate each other because it keeps everyone happy, but would rather not be in the same room together if at all possible.”

Dorian turned to Ellana, beaming.

“Did you hear that?” He crowed. “Family! He thinks of me like _family_!”

She laughed as Solas’ forehead drew into a frown, and her best friend clapped her heart on his back and bumped him with his shoulder.

“I think I shall call you Uncle Solas from now on.”

“I truly wish that you wouldn’t.”

Cassandra shook her head, a begrudging smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she leant forward to whisper in Ellana’s ear.

“The way they carry on, you could almost believe they _were_ family,” she said.

Ellana smiled.

“Don’t let Solas hear you say that,” she whispered back. “Or he might simply enter the Fade and never return.”

The two women laughed together, while the two mages continued on ahead, sniping at each other all the way.

She sighed. It was good to see them getting along, in the sense that their insults had become fond rather than biting. It was also a relief to her that Solas was being mindful of Dorian’s discomfort. Only a month ago, he and the Iron Bull had created their bond mark, and now the Tevinter omega was out on his first field mission without his alpha at his side.

She had tried to keep them together for as long as possible, but this trip to the Emerald Graves was only for a few days, and it was the perfect excursion to ease the couple into being separated for short periods of time; which she knew would be necessary in the months to come. 

Still, it was always difficult for bond mates to be apart. The alpha’s protective instincts needing to be reassured that their partner was safe, and the omega intuitively missing the security of their presence. Such instinctive behaviour was particularly difficult to ignore in the first few months after bonding, when the psychic link was still so new, and emotions could flicker across great distances unchecked.

In the field, and under attack by the Venatori, Ellana had more than once had to calm Dorian down after a particularly vicious battle, when the adrenaline of the fight had rushed down the bond, and sent the Iron Bull into a distant frenzy of defensive need. 

Such emotions fed on each other like a feedback loop, and as the only alpha the Qunari trusted with his omega, Ellana had been the one to take him in her arms and hold him against her neck until he calmed again. 

There’s was a chaste friendship, Dorian being that rarest of omegas who could only ever be attracted to a male alpha, no matter how strong a female was by comparison. It was because of the depth of their friendship and the trust the Iron Bull had in her, that he happily let Dorian curl up at her side and nuzzle at her throat when he was feeling insecure.

Unfortunately, Ellana mused, Solas was clearly finding it a little more difficult to deal with. 

It was only a month since he’d first called her _vhenan_ , and her heart still skipped a beat every time the endearment fell from his lips. But despite his declaration of love, he still preferred to keep their romantic relationship at its non-instinctual level.

Everyone in the Inquisition, working so closely together at all times, employed potent scent-blocking spells administered by a healer or a trusted mage every few days. This limited the potential for chaos, and avoided the possibility of too many partners discovering each other at once, and bonding in too short a time.

It was particularly necessary with so many new people arriving at Skyhold every day.

The tightly-enforced rule also meant that people could retain the secrecy of their status, if they so wished. One such person was Solas, and Ellana couldn’t help a kernel of fear that while they loved each other as people, on a more fundamental level, they may not be compatible. If Solas was an alpha as well, which she had begun to suspect more and more, the relationship could never progress.

The thought made a deep ache pulse in her chest, and she had asked him more than once to ease the spell temporarily, just so she could be reassured that he was at least a beta; someone she could bond with when the time came. 

He had always refused.

But that didn’t stop him from being jealous of Dorian when he nuzzled at her throat in distress, she’d realised. While Solas seemed to be immune to almost all instinctive behaviours, he had taken to sitting with his leg pressed against her in the evenings. A small signal to the rest of their companions that she was his. For now, at least.

She sighed heavily. It was a secret she held close to her chest, a guilty weakness of her strong personality, that for as long as she could remember, she had been desperate to find her omega. Not just any omega, but the ones the romances and histories spoke of. The spirit-bond.

Dorian and Iron Bull had found it, and now it was like a signal pulsing through the castle, visible and tangible to everyone. As soon as they’d scented each other, the shadow-bond had been created: without sex, or a bite, or even a declaration of love. It was a pale imitation of a true bond, but such a thing could only happen when the two halves of a soul had found one another. The day it had formed, the Veil had rippled across the whole of Skyhold, shouting the discovery to everyone - mage or otherwise.

Since then, the two men had been inseparable, and while she could have burst with joy for her friends, it had also brought home just how far away she was from experiencing the same. 

“Vhenan?”

Solas’ soft voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she realised she’d fallen slightly behind, and that he had slowed to meet her.

“Is everything ok?”

He was looking at her with the same gentle concern that had first drawn her to him. Intelligent eyes scanning her as though he might be able to see the problem, and soothe it with a touch. She shook her head to clear it, and offered him a smile.

“Ir abelas,” she said. “I was miles away.”

“Don’t travel too far, my heart,” he replied with a smile. “I would not like to lose you on your way.”

She chuckled, ignoring the way her heart flipped. Speaking to Solas when he was in a playful mood was sometimes like falling into a romance novel - not that she’d ever tell him that, of course. So often, his gentle teasing strayed so close to sincerity, that it became less of a meaningless flirt than a subtle declaration of love.

It left her confused, and unsettled, and hopelessly besotted. She was certain he realised the effect he had on her as well.

Her eyes sharpened wickedly, and she leant close enough to him that her breath would tickle his ear.

“What makes you think I would let you go?” She purred.

Without waiting for a response, she licked a firm stripe up his neck where the most sensitive skin would be, and skipped on ahead. With the scent-blocker in place, she tasted nothing whatsoever, but when she looked back over her shoulder, she was gratified to see that Solas had come to a stop, his posture rigid and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

She smirked to herself as she hurried to catch up with Dorian and Cassandra. He may not want to divulge his status to her, but at least now, she wasn’t the only one who was unsettled.


	2. Chapter 2

With the benefit of hindsight, Ellana could admit that it would probably have been better if they’d ignored Chateau d’Onterre while Dorian was still so fragile. But the altus, not wanting to slow them down simply because he’d been so recently bonded, had insisted they investigate.

And so, they’d spent nearly a whole day battling through swarms of undead; the lights flickering on and off, a ghostly presence lurking around every door, and uncontrolled magic crackling through the air. The atmosphere set everyone’s teeth on edge, and Ellana kept close to Dorian as his fear pulsed down the bond, and the Iron Bull’s worry rebounded back to him.

The combination of fear, stress, and revulsion at the fate of the child who’d become an arcane horror, sent Dorian’s instincts into a frenzy. He fought like a man possessed, his distress feeding his bond mate’s until they seemed to be tied together in a maelstrom of unrelieved need. 

When they finally cleared the mansion and stumbled outside, blinking and shell-shocked in the dusk, Dorian curled himself up into a ball and started to whimper at once. 

Even though intuitive reactions were dulled by the scent-blockers, Cassandra made an aborted move towards him, the omega’s obvious distress tugging at her alpha need to protect, before she’d managed to reign herself in.

“Ellana,” she pleaded stiffly instead. “He needs you.”

Ellana wiped the sweat from her forehead and set down her staff.

“He needs the Iron Bull,” she said grimly. “But I will have to do for now.”

She knelt down beside him and lifted him easily, tucking him under her chin and rubbing her cheek over his head, in a gesture that would have scented him the way his own alpha should have, were the spells not still in place. The familiar motion was soothing enough in itself, and he fisted his hands into the front of her armour and mewled as he sucked softly at her neck.

She chuckled lightly, nuzzling him in return, and knowing that if she hadn’t been wearing a blocker, he would have recoiled from her instinctively. No matter how much trust he put in her, her scent would never be anything like the Iron Bull’s, and the alien aroma was sure to repulse him when he was in such an unsettled state.

For once, she was glad for their lack of scenting. At least now, she could be there for him while he calmed. The quicker he came down from his own fear, the quicker the Iron Bull’s fear for him would stop feeding it.

“There now, falon,” she cooed gently. “You’re ok. Show that great alpha of yours that you’re fine, before he starts punching holes in my castle, ok?”

Dorian’s laugh was a little strained, but she felt the tension start to ease out of his muscles, and she kept him in her arms while she climbed to her feet and turned back to face her companions.

“We’d better head back to camp,” she said. “We’ll start the journey back to Skyhold tomorrow. Solas, would you mind taking my staff for me? I’m going to carry Dorian for a while.”

It was a mark of an alpha’s strength, that even though she was that much smaller than the human mage, she could carry him without strain. 

“Ma nuvenin,” Solas said tightly, and she didn’t miss the slight darkening of his expression, as his gaze flickered over to Dorian in her arms.

She frowned. Solas should know better than to judge Dorian’s behaviour when he was still so close to a bonding, and she certainly wasn’t about to leave her friend in such a state. But was it an alpha’s disapproval because she was soothing someone else’s mate, or an omega’s jealousy at having someone else cradled against her chest?

She couldn’t be sure. But when they finally made it back to camp and Dorian curled up with his head in her lap, she was certain that Solas was still frustrated. He sat across the campfire from her, his head bowed low over a book, and his hands tight against the binding while a muscle twitched in his jaw. 

“Solas,” she said softly, as Dorian slipped into an uneasy sleep. 

“Yes?”

He didn’t look up from his book, and she suppressed an aggravated sigh.

“Would you have me leave him to his panic?” 

She watched as the ticking of his jaw increased.

“No,” he bit out at last.

“But me holding him like this makes you tense?”

“It does not make me tense,” he retorted, his gaze snapping to hers and pinning her there. “I merely think it would have been more appropriate if you’d brought the Iron Bull with us. Dorian already has an alpha.”

There it was again; that subtle flash of anger beneath his words, but once again, she couldn’t tell if it was an alpha’s disgust at the petting of another’s rightful mate, or an omega’s insecurity at having their alpha comfort another.

She felt her own insecurity crackle in her chest. Her feelings for Dorian would never move beyond the platonic, but she couldn’t deny that having an omega turn to her for support, and nestle into her neck as though he needed her, was pulling painfully at her heart.

The warm weight in her arms felt right. Her protective instincts had surged. She wanted her omega, the one that would be hers to love and shelter for the rest of their lives. She wanted to kiss them and pet them, and tell them how much she loved them; and she wanted to know that they loved and needed her in return.

She knew that she loved Solas, but her proud apostate had never offered her more than a handful of feverish kisses and a few more secret smiles. He recoiled if she tried to nuzzle him, moved away if she brushed him with her hand. He wouldn’t let her curl up next to him on the sofa for too long, or join her in her quarters after-hours.

By the Blight, he wouldn’t even tell her if he was an alpha or not!

She couldn’t help it; she snarled.

Across the fire, Solas’ eyes went wide, and Cassandra’s head snapped round to look at her, the other alpha all too aware of what had riled her, and her tacit support all-but assured. 

Since they’d begun their relationship, and Ellana had confided in the warrior that Solas still wouldn’t divulge his status to her, Cassandra had taken it as a personal insult.

“That is a cruel thing to do,” she had said, as they’d sparred one cold morning in Skyhold’s training area. “To allow you to love him, without allowing you to know who he is.”

Ellana had defended him, because of course she had. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t still hurt.

“You know as well as I do that this was the best way to acclimatise them to distance,” she snapped at Solas now. “If seeing me care for a friend bothers you so much that you need to question my judgement as Inquisitor, then maybe you should cool off somewhere else.”

She couldn’t stop the low growl that was rumbling in her throat, and she felt Dorian shift uneasily in his sleep, and the tension gathering in Cassandra at her side. Ordinarily, she tried very hard to mitigate her dominant behaviours; she had known from her earliest years that she was an alpha of no small strength.

She was by far the strongest alpha in her clan, both in terms of physical strength, and in her indomitable will. With an aura that was so much more powerful than even some of the most impressive of alphas, came a responsibility not to abuse it. 

She knew well that she could bend almost anyone to her will, should the need arise. But she also knew the look in a slave’s eyes when their freedom had been stripped from them, and had heard the tortured sounds of an omega being abused by their bond mate, and unable to escape.

She had vowed to herself when she was young, that she would never bend anyone to her submission. She would only ever let them see a taste of her power, and allow them the decision of whether to leave her in peace, or challenge her in kind. If a challenge was what they wanted, then she would respond. But she would not subjugate merely because she could.

Now, though, she was struggling to hold onto her composure, her instincts screaming that the man she loved had both rejected her, and judged her for Dorian’s care. At her side, Cassandra had recognised the aura of a much more powerful alpha, and she bent her head in a gesture of respect and mitigation; an intuitive response to let Ellana know that she wasn’t a threat.

Meanwhile, Solas had paled, and she watched as his hands clenched and unclenched on the book, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Infuriatingly, she still couldn’t tell if his nervousness was the sign of an alpha becoming cowed, or an omega being reprimanded. 

Whichever it was, after a long moment, he stood on shaky legs and inclined his head.

“Ir abelas,” he offered, his voice tight. “I believe I shall retire for the night.”

He slipped into his tent still clutching the book, and Ellana felt the tension drain out of her as she sagged against Dorian. Her emotions were tightly wound, and tears pricked at her eyes as she nuzzled the sleeping mage’s head, a plaintive whine building in her throat that she swallowed before it could grow. 

Dorian was not the omega she wanted. She wanted Solas. But she was beginning to believe that whether he was an alpha, an omega, or a beta, her remarkable apostate would never nuzzle her the way the human mage did so naturally. 

Beside her, Cassandra sent her an achingly sympathetic look, and in an unusual, painfully tender gesture for a fellow alpha, bent her head to Ellana’s cheek and swept her nose across her skin.

Ellana returned the motion with a watery smile, grateful for the support of her friend.

“I don’t understand him,” she said softly. “Why won’t he just tell me?”

Cassandra sighed.

“I do not know,” she replied. “But what I do know, is that no matter his status, he certainly cares for you a great deal. Nothing else but that could have made him react so strongly to your treatment of Dorian.”

Ellana considered this quietly, the weight of her friend comforting and warm in her arms.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “I just don’t know whether it’s enough.”

***

The days of travel back to Skyhold were tense. Dorian, now back to his old self, had become instantly aware that Solas was frustrated with him, and had apologised at least five times a day; for all of the good it did him.

Solas spent most of their journey stalking ahead, ignoring everyone and everything, and generally projecting an aura of extreme anger, for all that he tried to reign it in. It was a relief to them all when they stepped through the stronghold’s gates, and Dorian was instantly swept up in the Iron Bull’s arms.

Ellana smiled, their bond practically singing in the air, as the Qunari enfolded his mate against his chest, and Dorian keened quietly into his neck.

“Thanks for looking after him, boss,” he grinned. “Sorry if we caused you any problems. It was… Harder than I thought it would be.”

“You both did well, all things considered,” she said honestly. “My castle’s still standing, for one thing.”

The Iron Bull let out a great booming laugh and flung Dorian over his shoulder, drawing an affronted yelp from the mage as he twisted ineffectually beneath his hands.

“Only just,” he confessed. “It was a close-run thing for a while there.”

“Then I thank you for your consideration of my building costs,” she said magnanimously, drawing another laugh from her friend. “You should probably get him out of here before you scandalise the whole of Skyhold.”

The Iron Bull grinned.

“Thanks, boss! We’ll see you tomorrow some time.”

She smiled fondly as he turned, Dorian still over his shoulder, and began to saunter towards their quarters.

“Oh, and Dorian?” She called after them. “ _Silencing wards_!”

The only response she got was a blush and a wave, as the Iron Bull carried him out of her sight, and away into the castle.

“Well, at least they’re happy now,” Cassandra observed.

Behind her, Solas shifted uncomfortably, and Ellana met his eye. 

“Inquisitor,” he said softly. “I… Do you have a moment?”

Cassandra squeezed her shoulder as she left, and Ellana motioned for Solas to join her. He fell into step a little behind, and when she opened the door to her quarters and wandered towards the fire, he lingered awkwardly on the threshold, his hands clasped nervously in front of him.

“You’d better make this quick,” she said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. “Leliana will want to see me in the war room in a few minutes, and I need to look over Cullen’s troop movements for the Arbor Wilds.”

Solas swallowed and met her gaze hesitantly.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour,” he said at last. “I know there is nothing between you and Dorian, and it was churlish of me to suggest otherwise.”

She stared into the fire, her fingers gripping the mantelpiece.

“I also did not mean to question your judgement as Inquisitor,” Solas continued. “You have been nothing but thoughtful and measured in your decisions so far, and have born the burdens of leadership far more gracefully than anyone has a right to ask of you, least of all me.”

She sighed and turned to face him, taking in the unhappy downturn of his mouth and the way his hands twisted together in front of him.

“I don’t understand you, Solas,” she said wearily. “You say that you love me, yet recoil when I touch you. You won’t tell me your status, but would have me trust that there is more for us than this.”

He looked down, his expression falling bleakly.

“And yet, if I should comfort another omega, you react as though I’ve committed some great sin. Tell me, how am I meant to feel? Because right now, I really don’t know.”

He raised his head again, conflict in his gaze.

“I suspect that you are confused,” he said softly. “I suspect that you doubt my feelings for you, and wonder what it is you’ve done to earn my reticence.”

It was her turn to look away, her throat tightening.

“All I can say, is that it is not _your_ fault,” Solas continued. “My issues are my own, and perhaps I am being cruel, but I swear that it is not my intent. My feelings for you are real, but there are-”

“Considerations?” She asked, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

He returned it hesitantly, and took a step towards her.

“Just so.”

She let her shoulders fall and stared back at him, uncertain and pale as he waited for her decision.

“I accept your apology, Solas,” she said at last. “But I wonder how long you think this can last. If you won’t even share your status with me, how can I believe that you trust me? Or that we have any kind of future together?”

“I do trust you,” he returned at once. “More than I have trusted anyone in a great many years. But there are things I must work out. Duties from my past that I do not yet know how to reconcile with my feelings for you.”

He stepped up to her until they were almost touching, his expression tentative and hopeful. 

“I beg of you some more time,” he asked gently. “Please, vhenan?”

The endearment was a dirty trick, she decided, as her heart leapt obediently in her chest. Nevertheless, she nodded, and stepped closer to brush a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. He let out a long breath, his arms encircling her waist and his head drooping onto her shoulder.

To her utter shock and delight, he nuzzled her softly with his nose, and she let out a soft, needy sigh against him and looped her arms around his neck.

“Never doubt that I love you, my heart,” he murmured into her ear. “Of that, you can always be certain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Falon - friend  
> Ma nuvenin - As you say  
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> Vhenan - my heart


	3. Chapter 3

It was an accident, and she wanted to make that clear. Yes, she had agonised about Solas’ status. She had lost sleep worrying that he was an alpha; missed whole meetings daydreaming about the moment she would finally catch a trace of his scent; and stamped down on the urge to cry when she imagined their relationship ending.

But she would never have forced him to reveal himself to her. Could never imagine demanding that he disclose such an intimate part of himself before he was completely ready to.

And honestly, it was the Storm Coast’s fault, really. That, and the rain. 

They were drenched. All of them. Dorian had tried to take shelter in Bull’s great shadow, but his hair was still plastered to his forehead and his robes were still waterlogged and stained. Solas’ face shone with water and his tunic was stuck to his skin. And Ellana’s boots squelched with every step while her braid dripped icy rain down her back.

They’d only bothered to put up two tents, in the end, the storm making it impossible to secure the guidelines and the sky crackling forebodingly above them. 

Dorian and Bull had ducked into their tent gratefully, and Ellana had followed Solas into theirs, already shrugging out of her sodden clothes and swearing creatively at the weather. Across the tent, Solas, already stripped of his tunic and doing battle with his leggings, laughed boyishly, and she returned his grin and began to unbuckle her armour.

That’s when it happened.

She caught a breath, a single taste of his scent, and her entire world shifted on its axis.

She knew, instantly, what had happened. Their spells were due to be replenished tomorrow, and the ointment they all used as an additional fail-safe had been washed off in the rain. An occupational hazard they could have avoided if anyone had thought to renew the enchantment earlier in the day, she supposed.

Or, she would have supposed, if her entire body hadn’t lit up like a firework and her breath stilled in her lungs. 

He smelt of the leaves of the forest after a sudden spring rain. He smelt of parchment, and ink, and the sharp tang of ozone. He smelt of woodsmoke, and roses, and the sweetest of peppermint.

He was an omega. And he was _hers_.

She had turned her back to him while he dressed, but now she moved to face him, her whole body quivering as he buttoned up a fresh pair of leggings, his chest still bare. 

His lips were moving. He was speaking. She couldn’t hear a word. 

A desirous growl rumbled up her throat, and his mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened, as he took in the sight of her body coiled tight with tension, and her pupils blown wide. She followed the movement of his throat as he swallowed, holding up his hands in a staying motion as he licked his lips nervously.

“Vhenan,” he warned, his eyes flicking rapidly between her and the tent door. 

A hiss escaped from between her teeth, and she stalked towards him like a predator, her movements slow and measured as her blood sang in her veins.

“Vhenan,” he warned again, his unease growing as she placed herself between him and the exit.

She came to a stop an inch away from him, the water and the trapped heat in the tent combining to turn his scent into something potent and overwhelming. She could see his pulse thrumming erratically at his throat, and his breath was hot on her lips as she lowered her head towards him.

“Ir abelas,” he said, his voice trembling. “I should have realised that the spell was nearing its end. Vhenan-”

She cut him off with a rolling growl, and felt a primal spike of lust and approval wash over her, as his legs quaked and he only just managed to stay standing. Painfully slowly, and with every rigid movement measured so as not to alarm him, she bent her head to his neck, and inhaled purposefully at his throat.

The effect was instant. His scent exploded in her nose, screaming _desire_ and _mate_ and _mine_ , and she let out another exultant growl and lapped softly at his skin.

“ _Vhenan_ …”

This time, the word was less of a warning than it was a whine, and she clenched her hands into fists and disciplined herself to stillness, even as every instinct in her blood screamed at her to claim him. Never mind that he wasn’t in heat yet; he smelt _delicious_.

Instead, she nuzzled up his neck and along his jaw, breathing in deeply as her spirit realigned itself to him as though she had finally come home.

“You smell like you’re mine,” she breathed into his ear, her heart pounding and her mouth flooding with water; already eager to sink her teeth into his flesh.

“Vhenan-”

She cut him off with a gentle nip to his throat that made him gasp.

“Do I smell like yours?” She asked softly. 

With a subtle twist of her fingers, she cancelled her own blocking spell and waited, as still as a statue, while it melted away. For a long moment, nothing happened, and then she felt him turn rigid against her, his heart somehow beginning to beat even harder as he drew in a long breath at her temple, and his body started to shake.

“Vhenan,” he whispered.

And then, all of a sudden, he let out the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard; a low, wanting, guttural moan that she felt pulse through her core and flood her with heat.

“ _Alpha_.”

His legs gave out, and she held him up while he clutched at her, breathy, desperate whimpers tumbling from his lips, as he pressed his face into her neck and lapped at her skin like a man who was dying of thirst.

She groaned, pushing him down onto the bedroll until she could lie flush against him, already able to feel the straining press of his arousal as it swelled against her leg.

“You are _mine_ ,” she growled, sucking at his neck, and drawing another glorious moan from his throat that made her nerves sing.

“Mine,” he was murmuring, his eyes rolling back in his head. “My alpha. _Mine_. Vhenan, alpha, vhenan. I’ve finally found you.”

His hips were bucking up against her, his chest flushed with arousal as his fingers dug into the swell of her ass and urged her to rock against him. She let out an approving growl, and he mewled in response as their lips crashed together, delirious with need as the taste of him exploded across her tongue.

He was perfect. He was everything. She would tear down the whole world to protect him.

Lost to sensation and joy, it took her a moment to realise that he had fallen still, his breaths coming in painful gasps as he clung to her, a hopeless, panicked sound growing in his throat. She sat up at once, her legs still straddling his hips as she looked down at him, desperate and conflicted beneath her.

“Solas?” She asked, as he screwed up his eyes and whined. “What’s wrong?”

“Vhenan,” he whimpered. “Vhenan, please.”

He reached for her, and then pulled back again, and when he opened his eyes they were shining with unshed tears. The sight of his distress made her feverish with the need to soothe it, and she let out an anguished noise and bent down to press soft kisses to his jaw.

“What is it, ma lath?” She murmured, trying desperately to soothe him. “Tell me.”

A choked sob left his throat and he pushed his face into her neck, his fingers tangled in her still-soaked armour.

“Please,” he whispered against her ear. “Please, vhenan, I _can’t_. Not like this. Not now. Please, please, please don’t make me.”

Her blood ran cold, and she pulled back suddenly, his rejection burning like a knife through her heart while her body rebelled against her retreat. 

“You don’t…” She swallowed. “You don’t want me?”

She hated how small her voice sounded, but then Solas sat up and locked his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to the skin beneath her ear and mewling.

“Of _course_ I want you,” he whined. “But I can’t do this. Please, vhenan. This is why I didn’t want to find out. This is why I didn’t want you to know. Why I didn’t want to know. It doesn’t change anything, except to make it harder.”

He broke off, panting, his rigid length still pressing into her thigh as she tried to control her own desire enough to understand what he was saying.

“There are still things I must do. Things I need to work out,” he breathed, his statement at odds with the fact that he kept breaking off to suck gentle marks into her neck. “Please, we can’t. Please don’t claim me. Not now. I can’t.”

A note of panic crept into his voice, and he let out a frantic sound against her shoulder and buried his face against her.

“Please, _don’t make me_.”

That statement, more than anything, was like a bucket of cold water over her electric nerves. The revulsion in his voice made nausea rise in her throat, and her breath left her body in a rush as she held him to her and rubbed her cheek across his head, scenting him as she had longed to do for so long.

“Never,” she vowed. “I would _never_.”

But that was an easier promise to speak than it was to keep, as the scent inside the tent only seemed to increase, Solas’ now tinged with a potent flush of arousal and need. She moaned as he canted his hips up into her, whimpering as he oscillated between mouthing at her neck and attempting to push her away.

“Solas,” she gasped.

A furious sound left his mouth.

“ _Please_. Don’t. I _can’t._ ”

With a desperate noise, he flung her from him, scrambling to the corner of the tent and snarling, his every muscle trembling and his body drenched in sweat.

“Don’t,” he repeated, his voice wavering and a fierce pride in his eyes. “I will never forgive you. I don’t want this. I _don’t._ ”

She would later look back on that moment as the first time she ever felt her heart break. It wasn’t a sudden pain. It was the longest moment of her life, suspended like a raindrop in time. 

He spoke. And she listened. There was a second before his meaning reached her. And then pain bloomed slowly, like a flower opening to the sun, spreading through her chest with a gentle burn until it crystallised violently in her veins.

She gasped, her face crumpling in pain as she pressed a hand to her heart. 

Her mind rebelled.

He was _hers_. Her omega. He smelt like he belonged to her; like they were meant to be together.

He’d rejected her.

She couldn’t help the whine that fell from her mouth. A soft, wounded, pleading sound she had never made before, which was met by a similar sound from Solas.

She looked up at him, her vision blurry.

“But you smell like mine,” she choked out, her voice hardly a whisper.

He whined again, anguished. And then his expression darkened and he growled, a deep, warning noise that made her back herself up against the opposite wall of the tent, her head lowered in confusion and hurt.

“I did not choose this,” he hissed. “I _will not_ choose this.”

Without a backwards glance, he bolted from the tent, running out into the storm while Ellana pressed her face into the blankets, and tried to muffle the sound of her tears. 

He was her omega. 

But he didn’t want her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy mid-Christmas/NYE! 
> 
> As I said on my other fic the wolf wakes on christmas eve, this is the last chapter i have fully written of this one and I'm taking a little break for a while, so it may be a few weeks before updates start rolling in again.
> 
> I hope you're all having as nice a break as possible! There'll be more alpha/omega angst in the future :D


	4. Chapter 4

The tree cut into his back and the ropes chafed his skin into ribbons. He was locked in place, hardly able to move, and too exhausted to transform. Andruil had caught him, and now the alpha’s scent was thick with triumph, while his own was acrid with fear.

He had overplayed his hand, and now he was going to pay. He howled, a desperate sound he didn’t recognise from himself, as Andruil advanced, golden eyes flashing and teeth bared in a parody of a smile.

“You have tested me, Pride,” she purred. “Ordinarily, I find that the thrill of the hunt is in the chase, but in your case, I will thoroughly enjoy claiming my prize.”

Terror slid down his spine like a razorblade, and he thrashed and tore at the ropes, a panic he’d never felt before clouding his thoughts and burning hot in his stomach. 

He was Pride, given a body by Mythal so that he might serve, but never submit. Was this what all of his talents would finally come to? To be bound in submission to his great friend’s daughter; to be locked in psychic bonds for the rest of his immortal life, scarcely able to think a free thought, let alone to make his own choices again?

He couldn’t bear it. He would rather die. 

The huntress stalked closer, and Solas felt, rather than heard, the pleading sound that broke from his throat.

He could not live like that. He wouldn’t.

_Please. Please don’t take my will from me. Don’t come closer. Don’t._

_Don’t._

“Don’t!”

He launched himself out of bed, muscles quivering and his tunic drenched in sweat, the fear of a thousand lifetimes ago making his heart race and his breath shudder. 

Skyhold. He was in Skyhold. Andruil was locked behind the veil. He was safe.

He didn’t feel safe.

He sank back down onto the bed and lifted trembling hands to his face. It had been a long time since he’d had that particular nightmare, and even longer since he’d lost himself inside it, but it was always the same. It always ended as she reached him; before Anaris had arrived to claim him as well, and he’d been able to turn their hubris against them and give himself time to escape.

It had become one of the great stories of his legend. It was, for everyone else, proof of his cunning and wit. For him, it was merely the most primal fear of his too-long life made real. It was the first moment he’d truly realised that no matter his skill, or his cunning, or his pride, he could still be made into a mere shadow by an alpha’s persecution, and his whole life turned into a waking horror. 

He breathed deeply, agitated beyond the usual shades of the dream, and disgusted that his first thought had been of Ellana. Not of how she was simply another alpha seeking to subjugate him, but of how acutely he wanted her beside him. Of how safe he had felt in her arms. 

The phantom scent of her haunted him like a drug, and he bit down until his lips were bloody in an effort to stop the yearning sound that was trying to claw its way up his throat. He snarled into the darkness instead. He would not submit.

He was stronger than this.

It had been two weeks since the Storm Coast. Two weeks since he’d been alone in the same room as the Inquisitor; and even he was beginning to admit that his avoidance behaviour was becoming untenable.

The problem, was that every time he thought of what had transpired between them in the tent, his body hummed with pent-up need, while his mind rebelled in revulsion. 

Tens of thousands of years of his life; the most hedonistic, power hungry empire in the world; a millennia-spanning war at which he was the head, and he’d managed to avoid ever being put in the position of surrendering himself to an alpha’s rule. 

It was an open secret among the Evanuris that he was the only unbonded omega ever to join their number, and he had spent whole centuries avoiding, charming, manipulating, and downright fighting his way out of being forced into submission. Andruil had come the closest to bending him to her will, but her folly in the battle with Anaris had put a stop to her attempts to claim him as a secondary omega to Ghilan’nain. 

For all that the society of Elvhenan believed him to be unnatural – whoever had heard of an omega who didn’t want to be claimed? – he had never been able to reconcile his status with his own deeply held beliefs about what was most of value in the world.

Freedom. Self-determination. Liberty. 

Pride.

There was no pride in submission. No freedom in being bonded to a stronger partner. 

How could he lead a slave rebellion, claiming that free-will and self-improvement were the highest goal of any intelligent creature’s life, and then shackle himself to the will of another?

Quite simply, he couldn’t. His own instincts repulsed him, and because of them, he had spent his entire life seeking ways to master his primal drives. It was Fen’Harel who had first created the scent-blocking spell - not that anyone alive now remembered it.

He still remembered the first time he’d stepped into Mythal’s temple wearing the enchantment, and the whole of Arlathan, it seemed, had frozen in shock, revulsion, and amazement. He smelt of nothing.

He gave away, nothing.

He could not be manipulated by the potent scent of the alphas, and they could not read his moods through his scent.

Pride became the Trickster, became the Dread Wolf; became an Evanuris.

Before the removal of the vallaslin, it was the scent-blocker he first gave to the people who longed to be free. 

But that wasn’t to say that he didn’t want a partner. In the most secret corners of his heart, he longed for companionship. For a meeting of equals. For love.

In this new world, he had found it in Ellana. Beyond instinct, and without the manipulation of scents and pheromones and natural urges, they had met as two minds only. Kindred spirits bound together, without the exploitation of status and power plays.

He had hoped that she would come to see their relationship as he did. As being worth far more because they had chosen each other freely, without lust and want clouding their minds. After all these years, he had thought himself to be above the primal drives of his body. 

Now, his pure love for his vhenan had been shattered, broken upon the wheel of status once again, and he was torn in two by it.

It didn’t help that the mere memory of her scent made him desperate to run to her, and press his face to her neck.

Sweet like burnt sugar. Rich as the syrupy wines of Arlathan. Smooth as the darkest of chocolate and as sharp as freshly-picked cherries; with the barest hint of hot earth after a summer rain.

It had been intoxicating. It had felt like being drunk. Like coming home.

Like being safe.

He clenched his hands into fists against the bed.

It _felt_.

More than a world without the Veil. More than enchantments that lasted for lifetimes and the universe singing at the same pitch, joined in an endless symphony with no clear beginning or end. He had never felt so whole as when she’d rubbed her face against him and her scent had overwhelmed him, and her arms, so strong and warm, had held him tight.

He longed for it like an addict; his yearning to bend his head before her second only to his disgust at himself for the desire. 

He was the Dread Wolf. He was _Pride_. 

Even if his most deeply-woven instincts commanded him to submit, he would not. He could not. He had a duty to perform that Ellana would never agree to champion. If they were ever bonded, his new world for the People would vanish like smoke through a keyhole, and he would be bound to her every wish.

Hatred would fester like an open wound, and there would be no happiness to be found for either of them, in any world at all.

He whined softly, alone in his room. He felt as though he was tearing himself into shreds.

The sun rose beyond his window, and he remained frozen, until a quiet knock sounded at his door. He didn’t need to open it to know who would be there. He had known she would come.

Fear fought with happiness. Longing grappled with sense. He wanted to rip the door of its hinges and blast her across the castle until she was nothing more than ashes.

He wanted to rip the door of its hinges and bury his face in her neck, until he forgot everything he knew of the world apart from her warmth and her scent. 

He stood on shaky legs, and slowly unlocked the door.

Soft green eyes looked back at him shyly, her lips curled in a tentative smile.

“Hello, Solas,” she said quietly. “Can we talk?”

He stepped aside, and let her in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this chapter was nearly finished before Christmas so I tidied up the end a little but I AM STILL TAKING A SHORT BREAK! (She says, to herself, while her actual job that is not writing alpha/omega fanfic stares back at her from her laptop).
> 
> If any of you see me posting additions to this fic or the wolf wakes in the next two weeks please shout at me because i have THINGS TO DO, DAMN IT.
> 
> Love to you all!

**Author's Note:**

> FYI for folks who've been reading my other long fic The Wolf Wakes, I'm way ahead on my chapters for that one so it's still happening; I just wanted to indulge my alpha/omega needs in the run-up to Christmas!


End file.
